


Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

by zetsubonna



Series: Easy Living [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ANONYMOUS ASKED:<br/>stucky + drunk sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

It’s 1940, and Bucky smells like a dance hall.

He’s sweet enough to have stopped off in the bathroom on the way back to the apartment, to rinse the cigarettes out of his hair and swish water around his mouth, but he still tastes like whiskey when he comes over and kneels by Steve’s bed, a hopeful little smile on his face as he leans over to kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth.

"You’re drunk," Steve observes, amused. "You sure you can even deliver?"

"Baby boy," Bucky purrs, not even a trace of lipstick on his collar, he’s been good tonight. "For you, I’m a milk man. Ice man. Mail man. Every day or every week or every whenever-you-want-it."

"Get out of that suit and stick a peppermint in your maw," Steve advises, squirming around to rearrange his bed. "And stop lighting up people’s menthols, it’s disgusting."

"Yessir," Bucky agrees, standing up, going to the window and hanging his suit over the sill as he undresses. "Shoulda come out tonight, Stevie. Little canary was singing so pretty, sounded like an angel."

"Spare me," Steve says, going over to Bucky’s bed to get extra pillows. "Next you’ll be on about how Evie’s dancing dress is made out of buttercups and lemon meringue pie and how pretty it’d look ridin’ up your arm."

"Not as pretty as you ridin’ my lap," Bucky retorts with a smirk. "Anyway, not in the mood for playin’ slap, slap, kiss, kiss. Rather have somethin’ sweeter."

"I’m about as sweet as turpentine," Steve disagrees, but flattery’s something Bucky can’t help any more than he can help being gorgeous and having the smokiest, prettiest eyes Steve’s ever seen.

He comes close again, sticking out his tongue so Steve can see the peppermint sitting right in the middle of it, and he’s naked as the day he was born, all muscles and smooth skin and that delicious little patch of chest hair right up near his throat is calling out to Steve’s mouth. Bucky flicks on the radio and trips over a floor board before he’s close enough to get hands on.

"You’re better at dancin’ sideways than upright anyway," Bucky teases as he slides his hands over Steve’s skin, measuring the narrow contour of his waist.

"Shut up, drunk-off-your-ass," Steve counters, pinching his nipple. "Else you can dance your way back over to your own damned bed."

***

It’s 2015, and Bucky’s covered in glitter from that strip club he and Clint like where all the girls are smarter than both of them put together. He’s humming that Nicki Minaj song he likes, so Sibani was doing lap dances.

Steve gently but firmly hauls him to the shower, and Bucky smiles when he peels out of his sweatpants to join him and wash him up, sliding his arms around Steve’s waist and pulling him close, mouthing the side of his neck.

"You’re drunk," Steve observes, amused.

"I don’t care," Bucky retorts. "M’in a good mood. You gonna sing for me, too?"

"That a euphemism or you actually demanding lullabies now?" Steve tilts his head so Bucky can suck his way down Steve’s neck to his collarbone.

"She was wearin’ this little outfit," Bucky sighs happily. "Zipper from her navel to her nipples. Looked like pit crew for a race car driver, cute as shit. Let me buy her a slice of pie."

"She’s got a real crush on your hundred year old ass," Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

"Don’t be mean," Bucky chides, biting Steve’s jaw. "Anyway, mm. You know what else the future has, besides cute girls in their underpants who dance like the fuckin’ French circus?"

"Hookah bars?"

"Goddamn it, Steve," Bucky bites again, sulking. "You ain’t supposed to sniff me and know where I been. S’rude."

"Clint told me where he was taking you," Steve confesses. "And I know you. Did you get any of the girls to go with you?"

"Sibani wouldn’t," Bucky says, pouting and leaning his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. "She don’t smoke and she had homework. But Amy went, and Ashley, and Elizabeth, and that girl who tried to hit on Nat, what’s her name-"

"Calliope," Steve says. "Like the instrument."

"Like the  _muse_ ,” Bucky corrects, thumping Steve’s hip and then reaching around to grope his ass. “She and Ashley and Clint got into a popcorn fight.”

"All those girls, and you still came home to me," Steve notes. "I ain’t that special."

"Nah, but you feed my cats and buy my beer, so what can I do?" Bucky sighs, rocking his hips forward. "Gonna let me do you tonight, baby?"

"I’ll think about it," Steve murmurs, kissing his nose. "If you can even stay vertical long enough to get to the bed."

"Punk," Bucky returns, smirking and pushing up for a kiss on his mouth. "You still can’t even dance vertical."

"Nah, but that ain’t why you keep me around."


End file.
